


teeth

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jongin meets a stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	teeth

They met at a pub. It was about a week before Christmas, and his friends had gotten a few strangers to help share a table since it was cheaper that way. Jongin was shifting uncomfortably the whole time in his seat, bottle of beer in hand. He was sure his friends still wanted to stay out after that, and he just wanted to go home to sleep. In the meantime he distracted himself with the football match that was screening on the large TV, mounted in the corner. It was Chelsea vs. Liverpool, and Torres had already scored, at 26’.

When the match ended (Chelsea 3 – 2 Liverpool), Jongin stood up. “I think I’m going to head home,” he announced, to the dismay of his friends. “I’m tired.” At the other end of the table, someone else stood up too. “I should make a move as well,” he said. His deep voice didn’t match his cheerful face. “Thanks for inviting me, you guys enjoy yourselves.”

“I was sitting at the other end, so I didn’t manage to get your name,” he said, trailing behind Jongin as they walked out of the pub. Jongin didn’t say anything. “It’s a little quiet out here, huh? Let’s walk to the main road together.”

“You like football?” he continued as Jongin shivered from the night winds. “You were watching that match so attentively just now. I’ve got a friend who loves football too. He’s mad about Manchester United.”

“I watch it occasionally,” replied Jongin, slowing his steps now. This guy seemed harmless, like he just wanted to make conversation as they both got out to the street, and besides, a little more talk about football wouldn’t hurt. “When I have the time.”

The main road was quiet as well, unfortunately. Pin-drop silence. The moon hung overhead, grotesque in its bloatedness, looming so close that it looked like it was going to crash towards Earth any moment. There weren’t many clouds, and one could count the craters off its white, glowing surface if they just squinted for a bit. Some vehicles passed by, and whatever few taxis drove by were already taken. Jongin shoved his ungloved hands deep into the pockets of his down jacket. Now that he was standing side by side with the stranger, he noticed that he was tall, with the kind of wide-eyed, winsome face that he knew his older sisters would absolutely love.

“Ah, pardon my rudeness. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Chanyeol,” said the stranger, grinning at him with a set of perfect, even teeth that were just asking to be featured in a dental care advertisement. Still, Jongin wasn’t that easily moved. “Are you still studying?”

“I’m a sophomore.”

“Two years younger than I am, then! I’m graduating next spring. You look a lot more mature than you actually are, though. I had you pegged at my age.”

One more taxi passed by. There was a couple cuddling in the back. Through the glass, the driver seemed grumpy at having to work at such a late hour. “Do you normally talk this much?”

Chanyeol laughed. There was some self-deprecation in his voice, and he had the grace to seem embarrassed, lowering his eyes to the ground. Jongin followed his gaze. Chanyeol was wearing a pair of grey Air Jordans. “I get that a lot. People tell me that I’m noisy to the extent of being annoying, sometimes.” Then he looked up again, and there was a split second of accidental eye contact before Jongin looked back out onto the road. “I just moved out on my own, actually. Have a small apartment of my own in Jongno. My parents didn’t want me to do it, haha. But I told them that I wanted to learn how to be independent, since I’m going to be working soon.” He paused for a moment. “I’m actually used to environments where there are a lot of people, so it gets a little quiet sometimes, living alone. It’s a new experience for me.”

Finally, a cab with no passengers in it. Jongin flagged it down. He could feel Chanyeol’s stare locked onto his back like a target as he approached the taxi.

“I suppose that’s a no if I asked you if you wanted to get some coffee at my place?” Chanyeol said, chuckling weakly, hands in the pockets of his jeans. His thumbs were sticking out and the way he ducked down to talk to Jongin made him seem almost meek despite his height.

“My name’s Jongin,” Jongin mumbled as he got in, then left the door open behind him so that Chanyeol could get in, too.

 

*

 

It took them half an hour to get to Chanyeol’s apartment, and they talked throughout the ride. Chanyeol was enrolled in an arts university and he played in a band in his spare time. Try as he might to resist, Jongin was always weak to persistent pestering, and Chanyeol was the worst kind of persistent – the kind that wore the most unobtrusive, most personable kind of smile and wormed its way into your heart with terrible, unfunny jokes. The kind that could make you feel like you knew him for years even though you’ve only been talking about the weather for half an hour. When he laughed he flailed his limbs everywhere and his eyes became wonky and uneven and his face scrunched in on itself. It was kind of endearing. He made a whole lot of noise by himself and Jongin was sure the driver wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Chanyeol to tone it down.

The apartment was on the third floor of a building that seemed like it was built in the 80’s. Even so, the corridors were well-maintained and clean. It was a studio, with a small kitchenette, and a hastily-made bed in the far left corner.

“I’m sorry, it’s not much,” Chanyeol said, taking off his coat.

“It’s okay.”

“Make yourself at home.”

There was a furry hat in the shape of a wolf’s head hanging from the coat rack, much like a novelty item. “I didn’t think you were the sort to like things like these,” Jongin remarked, hanging up his jacket.

“Too childish?” Chanyeol asked, putting it on. It fit him like a glove. He grinned, opening his eyes wide, looking a bit manic, and said, “My friends gave it to me for my birthday, actually. Because I remind them of a wolf pup, or something, a real cute one.”

“You don’t, though? Not to me, anyway.”

Chanyeol’s only response was to look slightly disappointed.

He made cocoa for the both of them while talking about his family (“My sis lives with my parents. No, it’s an older sister. You too? Two? Wow”). Then he brought it to the coffee table and introduced Jongin to the instruments lying around the cramped apartment (“This acoustic guitar has been with me since I was nine”; “This Gibson was actually a gift from my parents when I graduated high school. Shiny, huh? I have two more at home, there just isn’t enough space here for the rest”; “Spare drumsticks! I can play the drums too, just a little. It’s hard not to pick it up when you’re playing in a band”.) He sat cross-legged on the floor, at the foot of the couch, playing some English songs that Jongin didn’t recognise, while Jongin sat on the couch, knees tucked to his chest, warm cocoa in his hands. And when Chanyeol finally finished playing he rested his guitar in his lap and asked Jongin what he was staring at.

“Teeth,” Jongin said, realising how silly it sounded to his own ears only when the words were out of his mouth, “you have a lot of teeth.” But it was true; it was something that Jongin had noticed since the moment Chanyeol pulled that toothy smile on him on the roadside.

“I know, right?” replied Chanyeol brightly, hooking a finger into the corner of his mouth and pulling it aside to reveal more. “But I counted. I have the right number. They’re a bit sharp, though. I tend to bite myself accidentally when I eat.”

It was probably because Chanyeol’s mouth stretched so big and wide when he grinned. Actually, it seemed like Chanyeol’s face was actually a composite of several too-big things, big eyes, big ears, squeezed onto a too-small head and a too-small face, which only had the effect of magnifying his features.

“Your face is interesting too,” Chanyeol said. He reached up and put a finger to the bridge of Jongin’s nose, just moving it slightly. Jongin could see himself reflected in Chanyeol’s too-wide eyes, which he had previously suspected to be a product of plastic surgery, but now on much closer inspection seemed to be a mere, fortunate result of genetics. “This bump, right here.” His hand lingered for just a millisecond longer than it should have, and it made it feel just that much more intimate than it felt friendly.

Jongin moved away slightly. Not out of discomfort, but because he’d thought that things would be moving at a slower pace than they were, right now.

“I’m going to wash the mug,” he said, getting up, nearly tripping over Chanyeol’s foot as he walked over to the sink. The sound of blood rushing in his ears was the only thing he could hear.

It was winter, so the water that came out from the tap was freezing. His fingers were going numb, but he kept at it and pretended that he couldn’t hear the soft patter of Chanyeol’s feet against the parquet floor, getting closer and closer now. Jongin wasn’t stupid. He already thought Chanyeol might have been trying to chat him up when they left the pub, and he’d tried to steel himself against the attempt, but then Chanyeol had seemed like nothing but affable, and besides, he was starting to think that he might not mind it so much, even if he were walking right into the mouth of the beast. Just last week his best friend told him that maybe he should try doing something crazy, try seeing what life could offer if he just took the opportunities that came his way.

Now, however, he might be getting cold feet.

“Hey,” said Chanyeol, putting his own mug into the sink, his body brushing up against Jongin’s own. Jongin could feel the warmth from Chanyeol’s cardigan against his back. Then Chanyeol made his move, while Jongin stood, frozen, still rinsing the cup that had already become thoroughly clean.

“Do you hate this?” he asked, moving his hands, which were so warm, underneath Jongin’s sweater, underneath his t-shirt, across his stomach. His nails grazed lightly over Jongin’s skin and his mouth ghosted the shell of Jongin’s ear. His voice had dropped to a low, vibrating hum, and it went straight to Jongin’s cock. “Want me to stop?”

“No,” Jongin gasped, trying to keep his own voice steady, hands still under the cold, running water, “it’s fine.”

The last time he’d fucked somebody, it was well over a year ago. He lost his virginity to his then-girlfriend, who had to coax him into fucking her after several sessions of heavy petting. Then she left him because, according to her, he was a weirdo who was more interested in his stupid dance club and his stupid anime, and he had a sister complex, and what kind of university student was still spending his entire allowance on ordering fried chicken for all three square meals a day? “Grow the fuck up,” were her last words to him.

Chanyeol kissed like an amateur, but that was okay because Jongin wasn’t good at it either. His teeth were a little sharp, just like he said, the edges sliding against Jongin’s tongue. His cock was just slightly bigger than Jongin’s and Jongin struggled to keep his breathing even as they jerked each other off against the kitchen counter.

“With guys – it’s my first time –” Jongin choked out as he lay on Chanyeol’s bed later, one forearm strewn over his eyes, too embarrassed to look as he let Chanyeol tug off his jeans and his underwear.

“I’ll suck you off, then?” Chanyeol said, a little too enthusiastically, prying Jongin’s legs apart. Jongin felt his face flood with heat. “Would that be okay?”

When Jongin finally came it was with Chanyeol’s fist wrapped around his cock, wet with pre-cum and spit, and Chanyeol’s other hand splayed over his inner thigh. “I’m sorry,” Chanyeol said, sounding short of breath himself, but Jongin couldn’t see what Chanyeol’s face looked like, because he was so mortified that he was covering his own face with his hands, “but you looked so good at that pub just now, just sitting there by yourself, watching TV. I really wanted to talk to you.” Odd thing to confess right now, Jongin thought briefly, but he was coming so hard that it didn’t really register afterward.

 

*

 

It was still dark out when Jongin woke up. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the alarm clock on the far side of the bed. It read “4:02” in bright yellow-green font.

Chanyeol’s arm was thrown over his waist, and Chanyeol’s legs over his own legs, and Chanyeol was heavy. He was snoring gently. With some difficulty Jongin extricated himself from the pile of limbs and moved out from underneath the quilt. Then he found his clothes at the foot of the bed and put his underwear back on, but not without thinking of how Chanyeol had peeled it off him just hours before. His skin was still sticky as he pulled the fabric back up over his hips. Involuntarily there was a hot flush rising up his neck again, and he tried not to think about Chanyeol’s hands on him as Chanyeol snored right behind where he sat, at the edge of the mattress, tugging on his jeans.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay the night. It would be good if they could meet again, of course, that much he could admit to himself. Maybe he’d just leave his number for Chanyeol somewhere. He wandered towards Chanyeol’s desk, which was generally uncluttered, if a bit messy. Scribbling down his number on a wad of post-it notes, he let his eyes roam across the desk. Textbooks, iPad, manhwa, regular college student stuff.

There was also a calendar perched in the corner. It took Jongin a double-take, still writing his number down, to realise that Dec 17 was circled in red. That was today’s date. Yesterday’s, technically. The coincidence piqued his curiosity, just a little. He picked up the calendar and flipped through it.

There were other dates marked out, the numbers in the corners of their square little houses circled similarly with red pen. Nov 17. Oct 19. Sep 19. Aug 21. Jongin stared. There was obviously some kind of pattern behind the dates, but he couldn’t figure out for the life of him what it was. Maybe Chanyeol had some errands to run, every month or so? He flipped back to December, and the 17th was highlighted, like he had seen before. Well, no point guessing, and it was rude to have poked around in the first place. He put the calendar back down.

Behind him, the bed was awash with the pale blue light seeping in from behind the curtains, through the windows. Something underneath the sheets began to move. It was arching its back as if seized by some intense, dire sensation.


End file.
